


Aftermath

by Severina



Category: True Blood
Genre: Community: 1_million_words, Community: prompt_in_a_box, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 19:57:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7771108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Marnie's death, Sookie does some thinking and makes some decisions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ's prompt_in_a_box for the prompt "Is that what you want?" and for LJ's 1_million_words's weekend challenge for the prompt "You belong to me." They fit so nicely together for this story. Also, True Blood has apparently taken over my brain. Damn you, Skarsgard, and your awesome turn as _Tarzan_. Hmm, why am I not writing _Tarzan_ fic then...

"I'll escort you home," he had said.

The perfect gentleman… who minutes before had ripped someone's heart out and slurped from it like it was a soda fountain drink from the Quik-E-Mart. 

_The vampire I love_ , she thought.

The purr of Tara's engine fades as Sookie pushes away from her front door. She had declined Eric's offer, and though he had opened his mouth to protest he had closed it again when he looked in her eyes. Maybe he felt it through the bond – her confusion, her anxiety, the low slow beat of panic that thrummed beneath her skin. He'd faded back again and taken Bill aside and when Tara had grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door while shooting her best Thornton glare at the vampires Sookie had let her; she had leaned out the car window and shut her eyes and let the cool air wash over her face and tangle her hair; she had pretended not to hear her best friend's vitriol and pretended she had never seen Marnie falling backwards with that perfect hole in her forehead.

Now she trudges up the stairs, stops into her bedroom to strip off clothes that she imagines are tinged with the pungent smell of smoke. She ducks into the bathtub and turns the water on as hot as she can stand it. She wishes vaguely that maybe if she stands under the shower long enough she'll emerge all fresh and sparkling, bad memories washed down the drain along with the grime of Moon Goddess. 

Instead, each sweep of the soap unleashes another memory. _Here_ , beneath the heaviness of her breast, where her ribs had splintered with each jab of the Ratts' heavy boots. Her hand trails up to her neck, just _there_ , where Bill had fastened onto her like a rabid dog while Alcide's truck rattled through the countryside. She turns so that the water pounds against her upturned face, splutters in the spray and remembers, _there_ , the crack of a steel-toe and her jaw cracking like a broken hinge. 

Sookie braces her hand on the cool tiles, turns again so that her back is to the blistering spray. Blinks her eyes to clear away the moisture that may not have come from the taps. She's never been one to dwell on the bad things in her past and she sure as hell isn't going to start now. 

She takes up the soap again and lathers her hands before reaching up to massage at her shoulder. _Here_ , where a large hand pushed her to the floor and she lay, shuddering in shock, while his body covered her from a rain of silver shrapnel. Her hand drifts lower to swirl across her stomach, just _there_ , where Eric's head had rested when he cried blood-tears of loss and regret. She tips her head back when her hand glides lower still, fingers cresting through her curls to find the spot, _there_ , just there…

Her lips form his name as her finger presses, moves, gives her the release that she needs. 

When Sookie emerges from the shower she's feeling significantly… better. Yes, her life may occasionally be a giant pile of suck, but there has been a lot of good in it, too. And yes, she may still love Bill Compton despite the fact that he's responsible for a lot of the suck. That probably doesn't make sense to a lot of people – hell, it doesn't even make sense to her. But whether that's because he was her first or because she has his blood inside her or because she's occasionally just that dumb is really beside the point. 

She may love Bill, but she's not in love with him. 

She may want him safe, but she doesn't want him in her life... or her bed.

By the time Sookie's finished drying her hair she thinks she's got almost everything figured out. She just needs clarification on a few details.

She picks up the phone and dials Eric's cell. 

"Hey," she says when he answers. "Can you come over?"

* * *

He could fly, be at her side in mere moments. But some innate sense urges caution so he takes the 'vette, eases down side roads, and still senses nothing through their bond but serenity and a twinge of anticipation that could bode either good or ill. He crunches gravel beneath his tires as he pulls up outside her house. Lets the car door slam and gives her ample time to prepare herself.

Eric knocks on her front door twenty-seven minutes after hanging up the phone.

Sookie cocks her head, brow furrowed when she opens the door. "Thought you'd just come right on in," she says. "It's your house. You _have_ been living here for days."

"It's your home," he says, and is rewarded with the ghost of a smile. 

"Come on in," she says.

She pads bare-foot into the kitchen and he follows, eyes on the sway of her hips and the round of her ass beneath her faded shorts. His eyes are where they ought to be when she glances over her shoulder.

"Tru Blood?" 

"Not if my life depended on it," he says.

"Suit yourself," she says with a shrug, again with that tiny upcurl at the corner of her mouth, and tucks a foot beneath her as she drops into a chair. There is a crust of toast on the plate in front of her, the cooling remnants of a cup of tea. When she ducks her head the fall of her hair obscures her face, and he slides into a chair opposite her and sprawls out his legs and determines to wait her out. But the seconds tick by as she toys aimlessly with the burnt bread, and since he has had her he is not as patient as he used to be.

"What did you—" he begins.

"So I been thinking—" she says at the same time.

When their eyes meet and her lips quirk, some of the tension coiled around his dead heart falls away. He lifts a hand to indicate she should continue, and watches when she drops the toast and straightens in her chair. 

"Well, I was starting to say… I've been thinkin'. About you, me… Bill. All the crazy stuff that's gone on in my life in the past few months. And I think part of the problem is that I've been thinking too much. Spending all this time worrying about what would happen when you got your memories back, and then worrying some more when you did remember, and trying to figure out what happens next and how you could possibly fit into my life. But the thing is… nothing's really changed, not really, from how they were two days ago. I mean, sure, you remember all the things you've done. But I _already_ remembered them, and I loved you anyway." 

_Loved_. Eric feels his jaw clench, his shoulders tense despite his years. He had told himself, promised himself, that he would abide by whatever decision she made. But now that it has come down to it, it is all he can do to stop from overturning the table, smashing that delicate china plate, laying waste with every bit of strength in him. 

Until this moment, he had no idea that a dead heart could still break.

"I've seen the gentleness you have inside, Eric," Sookie continues. "The sweet part of you that you keep hidden away. But there's another part of you. The part I saw tonight, when you… when you ripped that boy's heart out. And I also believe that if it came down to it, you will be as ruthless and violent as you have to be to protect me and keep me safe… me _and_ my friends. And I'm… I'm kind of okay with that."

Eric blinks, images of wrath and destruction fading when her words register. He leans forward across the table. "What are you saying?"

"What happens," Sookie asks, "if I say that I'm… yours?"

The conversation is moving too fast for him, her human motivations creating a buzz in his head that drowns out rational thought. But this he can answer. 

"You'll be under my protection. I'm very powerful, Sookie, more powerful than you are aware. No vampire will ever touch you," he says, "or drink from you. Not while you are mine."

"Just you."

"Only if you wish it," he says. 

"Really?" she says skeptically. "Because it seems to me there's not a lot of bonus in it for the vampire if his human… whatever-you-want-to-call-it can just refuse him sex or her blood whenever she darned well feels like it."

"Most humans are not like you, Sookie," he says. It is a huge understatement – he has _never_ met a human like Sookie Stackhouse in his long life and is fairly certain he will not meet another like her were he to live another thousand years. He reaches out to take her hand, smoothes a thumb across the pulse point in her wrist. It beats steadily, an unvarying thrum beneath her skin. "And if you are to be mine it will only be because you want it. Because you want me as much as I want you. I will _never_ force you."

Sookie takes a breath. "Okay."

Her pulse is still warm and steady, but… "I don't understand."

"I trust you, Eric, not to hurt me. Not to lie to me or manipulate me. And I trust you to keep me safe."

"I still don't—"

Sookie laughs then, the sound joyous and bright and so confusing. "I'm saying that I love you, you big dumb Viking! I'm saying that I want to be with you."

The words surge through him, but he forces himself to remain calm. There can be no mistaking this between them, no room for error, no cause later for misunderstanding or regret. 

" _Is_ that what you want?" He holds up a hand before she can open her mouth to answer. "Think carefully, Sookie, because this decision cannot be undone. There is no turning back from this. The Eric you love… he is still here. I will let him out, for you. But so is the other and I will not pretend to be something I'm not. And once you are mine—"

"I'm yours," Sookie says simply.

Eric licks suddenly dry lips. "Sookie—"

"I'm yours," she says again. "And you, Eric Northman? You belong to me."

He may not overturn the table and crush her fragile plates and cups when he lunges forward, but he does topple his chair and cause her to squeak in surprise when he pulls her into his arms. He is smiling when he takes her lips, lets her laughter coat his tongue. Only lets her go when she squirms against his grip, and then only enough to pull back and meet her eyes.

"But there's gonna be some ground rules," she says. "Rule number one is monogamy. No fucking other women."

He actually laughs at that. "Why would I want to?"

Her eyes narrow playfully. "I mean it, Eric."

"So do I," Eric says. The thought of being with someone other than Sookie is incomprehensible. "You underestimate your charms, Miss Stackhouse." He cannot resist, bends to nuzzle against the fall of her hair. "What are your other rules?"

"I'll let you know as we go along," she murmurs.

"Mmm. I am yours to command."

"I was hopin' you'd say that," Sookie says. Her hand finds his hair, pulls his head back. "Take me to bed, Eric."

In one swift move he has her perched on the edge of the kitchen table; presses up against her to show her just how pleased he is with this turn of events. "How about if I just take you?"

It turns out that she's very amenable to that. He loves her rough and hard on the table, her body straining against his; slowly and with infinite care in her grandmother's big bed, with a fire burning in the hearth; he laps at the sweat on her skin and holds her down, hands on her hips while she writhes on his tongue. He whispers his love in a dozen languages. And once he looks up and thinks he sees Godric standing in the corner with a small, knowing smile on his lips.

Perhaps there is redemption for one such as him after all.


End file.
